


Coconut

by Crown_of_Winterthorne



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, M/M, Oral Sex, Piercings, Romance, Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, tropical vacations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:49:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crown_of_Winterthorne/pseuds/Crown_of_Winterthorne
Summary: Tropical beaches, drinks and lube. These are the things that make for a great vacation, but Akaashi thinks he could do without the puns.





	Coconut

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same future-verse as _27 Roses_ , probably a summer or two later, but this works as a one-shot as well.

The three of them are laughing when they burst into the beach house, kicking off shoes and dropping dove grey suit jackets at the door. Akaashi’s smile is so brilliant that Bokuto grabs his hand and yanks him close for a kiss. He's almost unprepared for it when Akaashi—usually so reserved—jumps into his arms, wrapping long, khaki-clad legs around his waist and clinging tightly to broad shoulders. Kuroo balances them with a hand on his back, then is threading his fingers into Akaashi’s long hair to steer him into a kiss of their own.

“Bed,” Kuroo says with a nip to Bokuto’s ear. He's ripping off the Tiffany blue tie he'd loosened as soon as the pictures were taken and the cake cut. 

“Way ahead of you,” he replies, settling Akaashi more securely in his arms and carrying him down the hallway into the brightly lit bedroom. He's thankful that they splurged on a place of their own, instead of the hotel where the guests and their families are staying.

The windows are open wide, letting a warm afternoon breeze ruffle the sheer curtains. It's peaceful, romantic, the illusion shattered—or maybe enhanced—by their laughter and teasing.

Akaashi finds himself buried beneath his lovers as they like onto the large bed with its tropical print duvet and dozens of pillows. It’s kind of ugly, but it’s comfortable. He holds Bokuto close even as he reaches for Kuroo, kissing him with open eyes and a smiling mouth.

“I love you both,” he says, the words honest and heartfelt. He feels light, despite the heavy bodies on top of him. “You make me so happy.”

“Your sister should get married more often,” Kuroo says, licking the taste of mint and rum from kiss-swollen lips. “You get all emotional and sappy.”

“Dear gods, no,” Akaashi groans, rubbing at his eyes. His lashes are long, dark, even without his usual subtle liner and shadow. His nails are the same Tiffany blue as their ties. “I don't even want to  _ hear _ the word ‘wedding’ again until it's legal for the three of us.”

Kuroo and Bokuto both sit back, blinking at each other and then at Akaashi.

“Wait— Really?” Bokuto ventures, a soft, gentle smile creeping onto his face.

Akaashi blushes when he realizes what he's said, but he can't take it back. Won’t. “Of course. I’d have married you both years ago if bigamy was legal. We basically already  _ are _ , except on paper.”

“Well, not quite,” Kuroo murmurs, catching his hand and kissing his ring finger. “This is bare. “We could fix that?”

“We will,” Bokuto says, wrapping his hand around both of theirs. “I mean, you can't just decide these things on your own, Keiji! All this time, I could have been calling you my husband?”

Cupping Bokuto’s cheek, Akaashi smiles. He can't resist teasing back. He feels too good. “Does that make you my wife, Koutarou?”

“Keiji!”

“You do most of the cooking, babe,” Kuroo says with a lopsided grin, “and you're much better with kids. You'd make  _ such _ a good mom.”

“Tetsu…” he whines, but there's a hint of mischief entering his eyes. He shifts off of Akaashi to pin Kuroo down, grinding their hips together. When he speaks again, his voice has gone low and husky. “I thought you preferred to call me  _ daddy _ .”

“That was once!” he protests, blushing dark red. “It just slipped out!”

“Twice,” Akaashi reminds him. He has that amused look on his face, the one that can easily be mistaken for impatience. “And I'm pretty sure you screamed it out both times.”

“Keiji!” His whine isn't as good as Bokuto’s, but it makes them all choke back laughter anyway.

Akaashi leans over, kissing them each in turn, then sits up to loosen his tie and unbutton his white shirt. He only bothers with enough buttons so that he can pull it off over his head, baring his tattooed back to the room. He tosses it onto the floor, not really caring where it lands. His wardrobe hasn't contained white since his first year of university.

Settling alongside the other two, Akaashi props his head up on one hand and watches as Bokuto makes a show of unbuttoning Kuroo’s shirt. He pushes up the white tank beneath to reveal his tanned skin inch by inch. Kuroo arches beneath him, biting his lower lip as Bokuto’s hands slide over his stomach, his ribs. His fingers slip beneath the bunched cotton to find pierced nipples, circling over them. He bends down to kiss Kuroo.

“I don't care what you scream as long as it's for me and Keiji.”

Akaashi shivers, even though those words weren't meant for him. Bokuto has always been bold, but it's that deep-seated confidence that has always made him admire the man. The years have done nothing to diminish that. If anything, this Bokuto is the man Akaashi has always known he could be. His insecurities, while not vanquished, have been tamed. He’s grown into his strengths. He's like sunshine, fierce and warm and blinding in his brilliance.

And Kuroo… Akaashi reaches out to trace his fingers over Kuroo’s belly, nuzzles his shoulder affectionately. There had been a time when he was so jealous of this man, though he’s hard pressed to remember it now. How could he have ever thought that Kuroo, so truly kind and generous to a fault, would steal that sunlight away? He only makes Bokuto shine brighter and shelters Akaashi when his shadows grow too dark.

Akaashi would wither away in the darkness if not for Bokuto and Kuroo.

Sliding to his knees, Akaashi settles behind Bokuto to unbutton his shirt and slip it from his sunburned shoulders. He kisses his way across their breadth, long fingers sliding appreciatively down the slightly less burned skin of his back. They slip from nape to belt before winding up and around to clasp together over Bokuto’s heart.

Bokuto leans back against him, his own hands coming up to cover Akaashi’s. He smiles down at Kuroo, lazily dropping his head against Akaashi’s shoulder. “I'm so fucking lucky.”

“Yeah, you are,” Kuroo sits up, his hands grazing over Bokuto’s belt buckle before sliding around his waist. They settle between his back and Akaashi’s stomach. He can feel Akaashi flinch. It's not in a bad way, so Kuroo rubs the backs of his fingers against Akaashi’s belly until he laughs and swats him away.

Grinning, Kuroo withdraws his hands and puts them on Akaashi’s hips. “I think I'm pretty damn lucky too.”

“And you two called me sappy,” Akaashi hugs Bokuto and kisses his neck.

“Yeah, but Tetsu’s always a sap.”

“True.”

“I’ll take it all back,” he pouts. “You both keep ganging up on me.”

“We’re sorry,” Akaashi says, and he almost sounds sincere. “We’ll make it up to you.”

“Better be good.”

Akaashi and Bokuto laugh. It's a wicked, delicious sound, but beneath it all is love and affection. Kuroo lets himself be pushed back down, pinned by them both as he's kissed soundly and his shirts pulled off by four impatient hands.

“Gonna be amazing,” Bokuto promises.

There's less talking but more laughter as they finish stripping each other, khaki slacks, mismatched socks and three pairs of underwear—all  _ very _ reflective of each owner in color, style and pattern—flying onto the floor to join their shirts. When Bokuto opens the new bottle of lube, it turns out to be coconut scented and Akaashi isn't sure if he wants to laugh or throw it out the window.

Then Kuroo makes an aptly timed “penis colada” joke and Akaashi threatens to throw him out the window too.

“Do not start singing,” he warns Bokuto, who holds his hands up in mock innocence, as if he hadn't been about to do just that. 

Kuroo slithers his arms around Akaashi’s waist, pulling him into his lap and kissing the spill of flowers inked onto his shoulder. “Mm. Did those mojitos come with a salted rim instead of sugar?”

“Don’t be cute,” he says, but he's smiling as he turns to kiss Kuroo. He makes a sound of surprise when Bokuto abruptly spreads his thighs and kneels between them, recapturing his attention.

“If I can't sing,” Bokuto leans down to kiss Akaashi’s knee, “does that mean you want me to put my mouth to better use?”

His breath hitches as Bokuto traces his tongue over the small pink rose inked on the inside of his upper thigh. It tickles. And it's damn close to his very interested cock.

“I thought we were going to be good to Tetsu…?”

“I am good,” Kuroo says. “I've got you, don't I?”

Akaashi closes his eyes, smirking. “Hm. That's pretty smooth for a guy who was just making dick jokes.”

Chuckling, Kuroo glides his hands up Akaashi’s stomach and chest. He lingers over the sensitive curve of his ribs, the collarbone he longs to mark up so prettily now that there are no more family photos to oblige. 

“I have my moments,” he purrs, pressing his face to Akaashi’s soft curls. His shampoo smells like citrus and honey. Like half of his home, his heart.

The other half is sprawled on his stomach between Akaashi’s legs, a stunning specimen of pale, muscular perfection. The sunburn across his shoulders doesn't detract from his beauty any more than his bruises from practice do. Akaashi has one hand buried in Bokuto’s hair, his toes curling as gentle lips climb ever higher.

Kuroo reaches down too and Bokuto looks up with a heartwarming grin. How someone can look so ridiculously innocent with their lover’s dripping cock against their cheek, Kuroo will never know, but Bokuto manages. 

“Stop teasing and give our Keiji some relief, yeah?” Kuroo rubs his thumb over Bokuto’s lips. Bokuto curls his tongue around the digit and Akaashi whines. So does Kuroo.

Bokuto smiles because fuck, he really is lucky, and presses a last kiss to Kuroo’s thumb. He urges Akaashi to tilt his hips forward, settling one kiss-marked thigh over his shoulder and slicking his fingers with the coconut lube. He keeps his eyes on Akaashi’s face as he brushes his lips against the base of his cock. The silent gasp, the flush coloring that elegant face, the way he twitches up for more, Bokuto drinks it all in with a wide, loving gaze.

Akaashi is so beautiful.

Bokuto slides his wet hand up the soft, skin of Akaashi’s thigh, opening him just a little bit more. He nudges his thumb beneath smooth balls to play with the piercing hidden there and Akaashi cries out sharply. It's a sweet sound, made sweeter by the way he pulls at Bokuto’s hair, wordlessly demanding more.

Refusing to be hurried, Bokuto runs his tongue over and under Akaashi’s balls, closing his eyes and suckling at them while he continues to play with the piercing. He hears Kuroo murmur something, then the soft sound of kissing. Akaashi pulls a little harder at his hair, rocks his hips forward in a way that Bokuto knows is probably driving Kuroo crazy. 

He's not usually so patient, but the moans above him are more than rewarding. He rewards Akaashi in turn by dragging his tongue up his cock and dipping his fingers further back. The resulting curse and cry of his name sends a shock of pleasure down Bokuto’s spine.

Kuroo moans too. It's hard not to, with Akaashi wiggling in his lap while they watch Bokuto finally take Akaashi’s cock into his mouth. It's not something he does often—though not for lack of enthusiasm—and Kuroo is always surprised by just how beautiful he looks with his full lips stretched around a cock.

He can tell when Bokuto slides a finger into Akaashi by the way their lover arches his back and his gasps turn higher pitched. Kuroo pulls him into a kiss that's more wet tongues than soft lips, his hand fisted into Akaashi’s curls. His other hand settles firmly on Akaashi’s stomach, trying to hold him in place because the way his bare ass rubs against Kuroo’s cock is too fucking good. 

“Baby,” he whispers roughly, “I'm gonna come all over your back if you don't hold still.”

Akaashi makes the effort, but it's difficult with the way he’s being methodically taken apart. Bokuto has two fingers rubbing against his prostate and his tongue doing positively wicked things to the head of his cock. Akaashi's damn near close to coming himself. 

“Please,” he says, because he's not above begging when he feels this good. “Please, I want… I want Tetsu inside…”

“Fuck,” Kuroo groans, “I want that too.”

“Yeah?” Bokuto glides his tongue over Akaashi’s heavily blushed crown. It should be obscene, but the way he smiles, the way he kisses precome away with near reverence is somehow beautiful. “Keiji, you gonna be good to Tetsu?”

He nods, eyes fluttering in time with the quiver in his belly. “Yes. God, yes.”

“You sure? ‘Cause we promised to be good to him.”

“So good,” Akaashi says, reaching back to pull Kuroo into a kiss. He tangles his fingers into thick hair, breathes promises into his mouth. “Tetsurou, please.”

With a low groan, Kuroo pushes Akaashi onto his hands and knees. He goes easily. Eagerly. Bokuto rolls onto his side to give them room, to watch with bright eyes as Kuroo slides his palm slowly up Akaashi’s spine, urging him to lay face down on his chest. They all three moan—Akaashi at the position, the other two at the view he presents.

“Fuck, you guys are gorgeous,” Bokuto tells them. He bites at his lower lip as he finally wraps a hand around his cock. The friction of the bedding couldn't compare to being able to stroke himself as he watches Kuroo slick his own erection and position himself behind Akaashi. 

The sound that tears from Akaashi’s throat is exquisite.

He digs his fingers into the duvet, hides his face against it as Kuroo slowly pushes inside. He's just tight enough that there's an ache, a stretch that he relishes before his body adjusts to the familiar shape of his lover. He thinks that he’ll never get tired of it, then Kuroo moves and Akaashi’s remaining thoughts are swept away. 

Admiring the play of muscles in Akaashi’s back, the way his tattoos shift and dance, Kuroo slides his palm slowly down his spine. He pins Akaashi with a firm pressure between his shoulders, bowing over him to place a kiss on his cheek. Murmurs words of affection and promise as he does it. He moves with a feline grace carried over from the volleyball court as he straightens back up and lays his hand on the small of Akaashi’s back. His other wraps around a hip, firm, but not bruising. Then Kuroo gives a slow, deliberate roll of his hips and Akaashi nearly sobs.

It's a little overwhelming, Kuroo thinks. The sound of Akaashi effortlessly giving himself over to pleasure. The curve of his intricately inked back, the flush on his face and the tousle of his hair. Kuroo loses himself in the sensation, the  _ experience _ that is Akaashi unrestrained. 

With every thrust of his cock, Kuroo feels Akaashi’s body shiver around him, muscles clenching in a familiar embrace. He's so tight, so warm. He's always loved fucking Akaashi, but this is a kind of lovemaking that’s unrushed, sensual and almost decadent. There was always love between the three of them, even when they're left aching with bruises and scratches, but time has always been a luxury. 

There are no nosy siblings or parents to worry about now. No early practices or curfews, no exams to study for. No work or deadlines, no waiting airplanes and impatient coaches.

Instead, there's Akaashi, with the pink peonies and swooping owl on his shoulder and the playful cat over his kidney. Kuroo traces his fingers over the cat, lays his palm over it before drawing Akaashi upright with a tug on his hair.

“Kou, come here, babe.”

Because there's Akaashi, and then there's Bokuto. Beautiful in his own way, with fever bright eyes watching hungrily as he strokes himself. There's a careful restraint to him and Kuroo is surprised that he's been so patient. 

Watching is Akaashi’s kink. Bokuto has always been more… hands on.

So it's equally surprising that Akaashi has to whisper a raspy “Koutarou,  _ please _ ,” before he gets to his knees in front of the younger man. If Kuroo moves like a great cat, then Bokuto is the hunter stalking him. It's easy to forget that he can move like that, slow and sensual with a grace all his own. 

He's always been so much more than he appears. 

Feeling needy, almost desperate for that strength, Akaashi throws his arms around his shoulders to cling to him. The illusion shatters as soon as his palms slap sunburned skin. 

“Shit!” Bokuto’s yelp is pitched higher than the time their water heater went out mid-shower.

“Fuck!” Akaashi jerks back into a wide-eyed Kuroo, who isn't quite sure what happened. “I'm sorry! I forgot— Kou, are you—?”

“I'm okay,” Bokuto rushes to reassure him, taking his hands and wrapping those arms back around his neck. He kisses Akaashi sweetly. Smiles. “It's okay, ‘Kaashi. It’s fine.”

“You're sure?”

“It's nothing compared to the burn I got my first summer at Fukurodani.” He glances at Kuroo with a grin. “You remember that, Tetsu?”

“I remember you trying to explain to the coaches how you ended up with a sunburn on your ass, yeah,” he grins right back, realizing what had happened. 

The memory is fond, if a bit unflattering for them both, and it brings laughter and teasing with it. It leads to shared kisses between the three of them, the mood reestablishing itself as they start to move again. It's less intense this time and they're all losing patience with the very concept of “slow,” but that's all right.

This time it's the three of them touching and there's still love. Still the need, the hunger that hasn't been cooled by their years together.

Bokuto wraps a hand around Akaashi’s cock, newly slick with the coconut lube, and gives him a single stroke. Akaashi mewls into his ear and that's enough for Bokuto to give him more. He tangles his other hand into Akaashi’s hair, angling his head so he can lick and suck his way up the smooth neck he and Kuroo love to mark. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs, working Akaashi’s erection in time to Kuroo’s lazy thrusts. “Our Keijj…”

“Yours,” he agrees, shuddering when Bokuto uses his teeth to tug at one of his earrings. Kuroo nips at the back of his neck and he cries out for him too.

Sometimes the pair of them get competitive trying to make him react. Akaashi isn't sure if he can handle that today, not when his emotions are already running close to the surface. Not when he's stretched out between them, back arched, as he’s kissed and stroked and fucked, so slow, so deep that he thinks he might cry.

They seem to understand that. Instead of teasing, Kuroo leans over his shoulder to steal kisses from Bokuto. It's playful, though not entirely gentle as they slip their tongues together and bite at each other's lips. Their attention turned from teasing him, Akaashi slides a hand down Bokuto’s torso to do some teasing of his own. He's lost his calluses from volleyball, but none of his dexterity as he skips his fingers over Bokuto’s cock.

“Fuck, Keiji…” He bucks his hips towards Akaashi’s dancing fingers, tightens his own grip. 

Akaashi moans but never falters, not even when Kuroo starts driving his cock deeper, faster. “Please…”

He's not sure who slicks his hand with lube—doesn't really care. They've reached the point where details don't matter because they have each other. They have panting breaths, sweet moans and clever fingers. It's the solid body in front of him and the sinuous one behind him. The cock in his hand and the one buried inside of him.

Bokuto jerks him with a sure hand, tight and just a little rough because it's what they both like. Kuroo thrusts reach deeply inside of him, filling him with warmth and pressure in ever-quickening movements. When Kuroo urges Akaashi to lift his hips ever so slightly, the angle makes him cry out. 

Kuroo smirks, pleased. They know each other's bodies so well by now, and yet he’ll never tire of it. He can tell which of Akaashi’s cries are for him, for the way he drags his cock over Keiji’s prostate. For the way he twists his hips when he slides inside and the way he likes to pull out almost completely before slamming home again. He knows when Bokuto has started playing with Akaashi’s guiche piercing again because his gasps turn higher pitched and he starts to tremble.

It's all so fucking intoxicating.

“Are you close, baby?” Kuroo asks, mouthing at the side of his neck. He goes faster. Harder. “Come first for us, Keiji. C’mon.”

Bokuto hums his own encouragement, pumping Akaashi’s cock with clever, quick twists of his wrist. “‘Kaashi… c’mon, love. You’re so pretty when you come.”

“Kou…” he whimpers. He’s not sure whether he wants to lean into Bokuto’s grip or Kuroo’s dick. “Tetsu… god, please…”

“We’ve got you,” Kuroo says. His own voice is a little strangled. Akaashi is so tight around him, his muscles clenching harder the closer he gets to orgasm.  The tension makes him shake and Kuroo lays a steadying hand upon his lower back, even as he grits his own teeth. “You feel so good, baby. Just let go. Let it go.”

Bokuto pulls back to watch Akaashi’s face, the elegant features twisted with pleasure. He means it when he says Akaashi is beautiful when he comes. It doesn't even matter that Akaashi has stopped touching him because he's entranced. The wrecked moan, the deep red blush across Akaashi’s cheeks, the tears fluttering upon his long, long lashes as his eyes squeeze shut.

Bokuto feels a swell of love and pride fill his chest as Akaashi clings to him again, half-sobbing and shaking. Come spills over his hand, turning wet sounds even thicker as he milks Akaashi through his orgasm. Kuroo keeps fucking him through it. They both hold onto the trembling, tattooed body between them, kissing his sweat-sheened skin.

When Kuroo comes not long after, it's with his face pressed against Akaashi’s shoulder and his hands gripping hips tightly enough to bruise. Bokuto thinks he's pretty damn gorgeous too, even with his black hair more of a mess than usual and the way he grits his teeth like he's in pain. 

The tension drains from his body and he sinks back onto his heels, pulling Akaashi with him. He's still inside, buried deep, and they both whine at the extra stimulation.

“Fuck…” Kuroo pants, rubbing his cheek against Akaashi’s back. “Fuck…”

Akaashi nods, making a soft sound of agreement. Kuroo’s arms wind around his middle and he relaxes into the embrace. He looks at Bokuto with sleepy eyes. He frowns. “Kou… sweetheart…”

“I got it,” he says with a half-smile, content to finish himself while he watches his lovers caught in the afterglow. “Don't worry.”

Akaashi shakes his head. This won't do. Not at all.

He crawls off of Kuroo’s lap, moaning as the other man’s cock slips from his ass. He can feel the drip of come on his thighs, the ache in his muscles, but ignores it for the moment. There’s a heaviness in his body as he stretches across the bed, a liquid languidness that he revels in. From the expression on Bokuto’s face—caught between stunned and hungry—Akaashi can tell that he likes it too. 

He captures Bokuto’s face between his hands, kisses him soft and sweet before dipping his tongue into his mouth. Tasting. Promising. His hand drifts down to stroke Bokuto’s cock again, feels how hard he is, how wet, slicked with precome and lube.

Bokuto protests as Akaashi starts to bend down. “You don’t have to—”

He smiles. As if he has ever “had” to do anything with Bokuto. He’s certainly never been so tired that he would refuse to get either of his lovers off after such amazing sex. He wants Bokuto to feel as good as he does. As Kuroo does.

Akaashi kisses him again. “Let me? Please.”

Bokuto nods, feeling a little unworthy, but mostly grateful. He's so hard that it hurts. 

He runs his clean hand through Akaashi’s curls, watching as pink lips touch the head of his cock. There's a flicker of tongue as Akaashi licks away beads of precome. He keens.

Akaashi rolls his gaze up towards Bokuto, a wry smile curling his mouth. “It tastes like coconut too.”

“Huh?” He's not quite able to focus on anything more than how fucking sexy Akaashi looks between his thighs.

“The lube,” he gives Bokuto another kitten lick. “It tastes like coconut.”

Lounging against the pillows, Kuroo laughs with his head thrown back, but Bokuto doesn't have the chance to process why. That's when Akaashi takes him into his mouth, then with a wink, takes him even deeper.

Bokuto groans, surprised that he doesn't come right away. That's the last coherent thought that he has. 

There's no teasing, only wet heat and the silken pressure of Akaashi’s throat. Bokuto barely notices when Kuroo joins them until his chin is lifted for a kiss. Then it’s just Kuroo’s hands on his chest, lips on his mouth, and Akaashi. Wonderful Akaashi, making eye contact the entire time, encouraging him with soft little sounds.

He doesn’t even try to last. It feels too good and he’s denied himself for much too long. 

Akaashi swallows. He’s never been overly fond of the texture and the taste is strange when combined with the lube, but he savors the way Bokuto shakes above him, the way he calls out his name. There’s power in this, yes, but that isn’t what he thinks about as trembling hands pet his hair. Akaashi has only ever wanted Bokuto to be happy, to help him be stronger, and there’s a joy in being able to bring him so much pleasure.

Joy in the way that his face is lifted up by two hands—one pale and one tanned, both with calluses and odd crooks in the pinkies.

Breathing heavily, Bokuto leans down to kiss him tenderly. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Akaashi sighs out. “Both of you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, glancing over to Kuroo, who takes his hand.

“Love you both too,” Kuroo says, resting his head on Bokuto’s shoulder. Akaashi puts his on Bokuto’s thigh, lying curled on his side as they both play with his hair. Kuroo thinks that he looks blissed out and beautiful. He always does.

If he’s honest with himself—and he usually is—there’s really no where that Kuroo would rather be than sprawled across a bed with a kitschy tropical duvet, smelling of sweat, come and coconut lube in a beach house in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, with the two men he loves most. He’s grateful that they don’t have to meet any of their families for dinner. Their obligations have been filled, short of saying goodbye at the airport, and now there’s another three days laid out in front of them. They can indulge themselves in the beach, in adventure, in each other. For the rest of today though, Kuroo has little intention of doing anything more strenuous than dragging himself to the shower. 

Or maybe a second round of sex. There is, after all, another bottle of lube on the nightstand, this one labeled in citrus green. 

He wonders if it tastes like lime and if Akaashi will throw him out the window for comparing his ass to a coconut.

—END—


End file.
